This morning I witnessed a mother who had lost her cool with her daughter. I saw a sad 4-year-old girl and a frustrated, stressed out mother. In my mind I started getting a teensy bit judgy. Then I saw something incredible happen. I watched her stand in half her uniform (she was a state trooper) outside her husband's car in the parking lot of Panera, spreading cream cheese on a bagel so her kid could have a decent breakfast. An old man (who looked to be a Panera regular) said the most profound thing that brought tears to my hormonal eyes "The mother never stops."
No she doesn't. And I realized that 3 years from now that could be me. I could be having a really shitty morning or a really shitty evening and I might snap at my beautiful daughter. Who am I to judge another mother because she's not perfectly loving to her child? We all have our moments.
The statement the man made immediately made me also think of Keith. Because, he, like that mother, never stops. Even if he's having a shittty day, he's still fathering and loving our children.
It may not be in the way that I would want at that moment, but who am I to judge when I am not in his shoes?
Men who share in equal parts parenting and housekeeping don't get nearly enough credit as the mothers. Whenever Keith and I go somewhere with the kids and he has the baby, mothers everywhere have this question on their brains: "Where's the mother?" I kid you not. I see the visible look of relief on these mothers' faces when they scan the area and find me. Keith says he gets looks of bewilderment when he takes Bevin to the store during the day when I am working. No compassion. Just bewilderment. But mothers? We are automatically understood, respected. Rightfully so, of course. But I wanted to take this opportunity to acknowledge and thank my husband for being a dedicated father and husband and for never stopping. Even when he is dog tired, cranky as hell, just-doesn't-want-to-do-it-anymore, he still does it.
Keith, my baby daddy, I love you.
